Had Circumstances Been Different
by abodo
Summary: Touma has always been linked to many women. But under different circumstances, would those links be different?
1. Happy little hell

Had circumstances been different, Vento wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be seated here at this table with such an annoyed look on her face. Her regular yellow dress was damaged and far too eye catching for lying low. Maybe that was why she looked so out of place wearing a cotton-lace dress with a denim cardigan with little securing strands of linen tied in bows to secure it on her wire like frame. its innocent sky blue clashed horribly with her piercings. The numerous studs of metal on her brows, nose, lips were enough to make people sick. But had she opened her mouth, people would see the stud piercing her tongue. It was bizarre to say the least. She had features however, that were not too far removed from the image given by her attire. Her face now lacked that thick make-up that looked ill, instead replaced with a palor reminiscent of alabaster. Her hair was short but feathered lightly to the side like golden threads swaying in the wind. With all those features and her natural scowl. She made quite a sight. Malevolent, but fragile; violent, but somehow kind; ugly, yet beautiful. Needless to say it left many to stare at the female member of God's Right Seat.

Her form was limp, lying forlornly gainst the cushioned backrest of the booth bench. Her blue eyes strayed out the large window. Tracing steps, watching the people, analyzing the paths of attack and retreat. What they came to rest on though was the visage of a family. A mother, a father , a 5-year-old son, and a 7-year-old daughter. She watched them as the children ran about, pulling and dragging at their elders as they crossed the street. The mother seemingly exasperated while her husband felt a content grin. It looked like a happy family. The boy did most of the dragging and pointed somewhere in Vento's direction, probably asking to eat in the store she was a patron to. In his eagerness his hands had slipped and he fell on his back. His parents were surprised and kneeled to his aid. But even as they stood him up and nursed the bump on the back of his head with sweet words and caresses, he still cried. In the parents' time of distress, their daughter stepped up and spoke a few words to her younger brother. She gave him a small mussing of the hair and a smile crept up on that baby face again. Truly, had crcumstances been different Vento of the Front would not be in this place.

"Well that's a rare sight.", a voice cut into Vento's thoughts. The clatter of a plastic tray and the squeak of the pleather bench across announced the return of her companion. Or in this case, she should call him her warden. "Here in academy city, it's usually just students and staff. There are practically no parents living inside.".

She heard him say those things but she did not comment. Waxed paper crinkled gently and the sound of someone taking a huge bite could be heard.

"Aren't you going to eat?".

She paid him no mind.

"Ah, maybe because it's hamburgers and fries. I thought all nuns eat fastfood, maybe I was just basing you off the wrong nun."

His voice held no contempt. No mocking whatsoever. It grated more on her nerves that he used that voice. The one he always used. Honest, clueless but still very sincere in concern. She hated the fact he spoke to her with compassion. "I'm not a nun you heathen monkey.", Vento grunted as she reached for the pile of burgers for the first time. As she lifted her preferred item, she stared incredulously at the tray. A pile of burgers was wrong. It was better to describe it as a mountain. "What in the name of whatever pagan diety you worship is this?".

Brows furrowed in question before the male sitting across her answered honestly, "food."

Vento glared, " that's not what I meant you bone-headed heathen.".

"Ah! I got so used to feeding that nun like this that I ordered for 30 people on reflex!"

"I'm not a nun!", Vento practically screeched at the infuriating man before her. Opposed to the hostility she normally drew out of people, this idiotic sincerity was far harder to deal with. Even if her Divine Punishment were not negated by his right hand, if Kamijou Touma had faced Vento of the Front with this lethal sincerity, she would have been finished. Taking a large bite, she looked out the window again and decided to ignore the fool. She had more pressing matters to think about, like why was she stuck in academy city as a prisoner? And more so under the responsibility of this carefree moron, if his choking on a clump of fries and milkshake were any indication.

"Haa... Such misfortune.", the young man said.

Vento watched him with a critcal eye. Normally, she should be dead. The fact that she wasn't had always confused her to no end. Aleister had no reason to let her live. The other members of God's Right Seat would have collected her if she survived on that rainy 30th September. But neither was the case. When she asked before, the boy had said he pulled some strings. He talked to people into letting her go. He had said she was not bound by the fighting and was free to go. But she didn't. Or more like she couldn't. She had nothing, nowhere tht waited for her. She had nothing to welcome her back with open arms other than her place as the Roman Ctholic Church's ultimate weapon. So he quickly, unhesitatingly grasped her by the arm and told her: "I won't let you go. Until you've made your peace to find your place from a world of bloodshed this right hand of mine will never let you go."

Ever since, she'd lived with him and the index librorum prohibitum. The days passed like a blur. Days where she had to restrain herself from whacking Kamijou with her wind hammer whenever he caught her undressed(on accident), days where she fought against a hungry nun and a cat for lunch and dinner. And despite how hectic they all seemed, they were peaceful days. For someone like her, those lukewarm feelings were something she hated so much. She was a person of spite, of pain, of insults and provocation. She was a weapon. These feelings of normalcy were only rust on her dulling edge.

But she never did figure out. Why? Why did this situation come about? How did Kamijou Touma tke custody of the prisoner known as Vento of the Front. The science side perhaps would aquiesce. Imagine Breaker was something of great importance to them so perhaps there was leeway. As the keeper of the keeper of 103,000 grimoires, perhaps the anglicans pardoned this as well. But what about God's right seat? Why had neither Acqua nor Terra collected her?

"Why?"

"Why what?", kamijou replied cluelessly.

"Why did God's Right Seat abandon me?", Vento felt her voice sound surprisingly bitter.

A heavy silence fell on the table. It was a topic Touma had repeatedly dodged. This time however, there seemed to be no avoiding it. Vento was tired, tired of looking, tired of searching. That place Kamijou spoke of didn't exist. No, the place Vento belonged to did exist. It was the Roman Catholic Church. Her place was their vanguard, their shield that carved a bloody path through a battlefield of non-believers' corpses. As things stood, even that place seemed to abandon her as well. She was utterly lost.

Kamijou spoke. His face stern and his tone measured. " they didn't abandon you.", his declaration ringing clearly in her ears. "Acqua of the back collected you after our fight.".

Vento's eyes narrowed into slits, "then why am I still here?".

"Because I asked him to let you go."

"That doesn't sound possible. I know him, he's not the type to be moved by pitiful stories.".

"But he still understood tragedy.", the boy interjected. "He still had honor left in him. He could understand. That your path as God's Right Seat would end meaninglessly. Just suffering and no salvation would reach you. He understood that. He knew your decision to fight was nothing more than penance and self-destruction. That cause doesn't belong on the battlefield."

Hearing that, hearing those words, Vento turned livid. "How dare you! How dare you brush off my reason to fight! How dare you insult my brother's passing by undermining my choices! I fight for revenge!"

"On yourself.", the boy cut her off. "You must understand. You already know since that fight. Science did not kill your brother. Your brother died saving you. No one is to blame. Why are you performing this revenge, that nobody but you wants, on yourself by your own hands!? With that, ren't you just trampling on your brother's feelings?".

Vento opened her mouth to retort. But she couldn't. Her heart burned to rebuke Kamijou, but at the same time his words were understood. Vento was a mess. "What can I do?", she spat out the words like a snake spitting venom. "Why should I be happy when my brother had to suffer? I don't want to be happy. I'm fine with suffering.".

"Then suffer being happy.", Touma smiled. "Atone by living the life he passed on to you. And even if after that you still feel displeased, then I will make you happy for as long as it takes until you accept it."

The last statement reached Vento's ears and her cheeks turned pink. "Uncouth barbaric perverted heathen monkey.", she hissed under her warm pink cheeks. A familiar lukewarm sensation pulsing in her chest. Yes, had circumstances been different, Vento would not be in this place. But for now, she didn't mind so much.

Touma tilted his head. He wondered if she understood that he was willing to be her friend.


	2. A harmless inquisition

Had circumstances been different, perhaps the second princess of england would not be seated here. Perhaps she would not have her older sister circling her like a hawk whilst the red folds of her partly leather dress began to stick with the humid tension of the air. Perhaps the second princess' younger sister wouldn't be wringing her dainty hands and looking distressed as if the world would fall apart at any second. Had circumstances been different, Knight Leader would not be on the floor in a dead faint with all the knights of england nursing his recovery. And worst of all, second princess Carissa's mother would not be howling in laughter from the royal throne of buckingham palace.

"Really", she sighed. "Just let slip a little date and everything goes to hell isn't that right mother?".

"I dare say that it's far more devastating than you declaring that coup d'etat.", the wise queen responded airily. "I mean, if the princess of intelligence could predict that but not this, that must be saying something about these flow events yes?".

There was that annoying twinkle of mischief in her mother's eyes. Carissa really hated that. She hated even more the owlish gaze elder sister Rimea was giving her. "Are you quite done?", snapped the red princess of military matters.

"No.", a short but concise response. "I still have trouble wrapping my head around even the possibility of this. Villian, I could understand. But you, never in a million years would I assume.".

"Yet, none of you let me have the right to deny it. Instantly believing that a slip of tongue to be absolute. I'm not sure if you're all smart or just gullible twits.".

"Perhaps both.", guffawed the mother of the girls.

"But isn't the 12th of October far too soon?", Villian finally spoke of her concerns. "After all, that's barely two months away and this is the first time we've even heard of this man you're seeing, much less marrying.".

"I was looking for the right time okay?", Carissa huffed up with arms across her chest. Her glare was away from them but they could see the petulance in her form and flush below that fierce gaze.

"But I must say that I am still impressed. For you to hide such a secret as your wedding. Had we not been discussing Villian's union with Sir Orville in a fortnight, you wouldn't let slip of your intentions. None of us would be the wiser."

"And you call yourself the princess of intelligence?", was Carissa's scoff. "I feel ashamed now that you slipped past my grasp in that coup.".

"This and that are two very different things!", sputtered back a flustered Rimea.

"So tell me o' daughter of mine.", Queen Elizard interjected in the sibling squabble. "just who have you decided to become part of the royal family? Is it Sir Claxton of the south? Sir Maurice from Wales? Or is it the extravagant George who keeps throwing those balls in hopes of obtaining a title?".

Elizard's tone was joking but Carissa's reply could not be any more scathing and livid. "Mother, Claxton is an old man. He's a better match to you than I. Maurice, that coward, couldn't even look me in the eye the whole time during his family's visit. It wasn't even from staring at my boobs! And you know very well how much I abhor the waste of money that goes into those little events of nothing but tittering women and inebriating minds when I could be purchasing a good battleship or improving our compliment of jets.".

"Then I suppose that rules out anyone from england.", Elizard laughed from her seat. "They seemed to be the men you felt most comfortable around.".

"If only because I took solace in the moment when they'd leave me be.", sighed the red princess.

"Very few are eligible to be wed into royalty, even in our country. You do know that right? Did you choose a common citizen?"

"That is how you would choose Rimea. Don't lump me with your tastes. A citizen my man would be but normal is far from what he is."

"Oh so a knight then.", Villian exclaimed delightedly from her seat.

"Bzzzt wrong.", Carissa shotdown the guess with a bored look.

"Oh."

"But at the very least we've gained a clue.", wise old Elizard spoke. "A citizen but of a great importance."

"But I doubt it would be for money. It's not in Carissa's nature."

"And I'm saying it again Rimea that your tastes aren't mine."

Rolling her eyes, the second princess of england let her family guess on their own whom she would marry in the coming months. It was perhaps already a year since they last saw each other. He said he would see her after he could find the time to come to england. She had offered to visit but he was much too conscious of Carissa's position, more so than her. Carissa was after all, the princess of military matters. Who would bolster the armies of the UK without her guidance? She hated that about him, the way he pampered her. But the way his eyes hardened with a glint matching flint made him attractive to her gaze. He was compassionate but willing to fight. He may have been a coward who would choose the easy way out. But he would risk his life if it meant everyone would be able to smile in the end.

"Ah, she's smiling! She's smiling!", Villian gasped in horror.

"She must really like this boy."

"Pffffft! What makes you think he is younger than me!?"

Elizard guffawed, "My dear you just confessed to it."

"I- wait... Then why did yo call him a boy instead of a man.".

"Child, at my age everyone is a whelp. To me even Knight Leader is a boy and you a little girl."

Carissa opened her mouth but closed it again imitating a fish perfectly. She seemed to want to speak but thought better of it beforenher family could drag out information she was still unwilling to share with them.

"Though really. Making her smile so giddily and gently. Making her so embarrassed about this union. I'm not sure wether I should be impressed or terrified of this man. And he's younger at that.".

"At the very least share his name Carissa. You're basically anouncing your intent to matrimony right here.", chided the mother.

Carissa hugged herself, looking away from her sisters and mother before letting out a name.

"Tom."

"Tom?"

"Tom."

"Tom?"

"Yes, Tom you thick-headed numbskulls.", Carissa glared at her sisters with a bulging vein.

"So maybe he is english.", mused Villian.

"But Tom may also be the name of an American.", Rimea added. "In fairness the name Tom is fairly common so even countries that don't use the english language have also begun to use english names.".

"Then we're really not much closer to solving who this mystery man is are we?"

"Hum? But Tom usually isn't an actual name. Normally its a shorter form of Thomas.".

"Touma."

The voice of the speaker drew the women's attention. It was Sir William Orville, formerly Acqua of the back and now 3rd princess Villian's fiancé.

Touma, a Japanese name. A name they knew only belonging to one boy.

"That Touma!?", Rimea practically shrieked.

"It has to be that Kamijou Touma.".

"That brave Asian boy!", guffawed Elizard.

The only thing Carissa could do in response was to give her brother-in-law to be the dirtiest glare she could manage.

-/:;()$& "'!?,.[]{}#%^*+=¥£€~|\_.,?!',

Author's Notes: for those of you who are reading this, thank you. That may mean you've read through these first two chapters of Had Circumstances been different. This is the first time I'm genuinely writing for the fandom so I'm still nervous with the quality of my work. This fiction is made for the purpose of exploring the characters' circumstances and personalities. Hopefully this experiment of mine will stay enjoyable for everyone.

as you may have noticed the first chapter was about Vento of the front but this chapter was about princess Carissa. This work will be a collection of vaious romances but I will consider continuing any of the previous entries at any time. Again thank you.


	3. The one beyond the million

Man is a greedy being. She herself admits that she is greedy, selfish and in some cases, maybe even gluttonous. But most of all, she is confused. Because of how she wants so much but can only choose so little. What should she do? What was right? What was it she was looking for?

_In the end, you just didn't want to lose your friend. Right?_

Yes, that's right. Had circumstances been different, perhaps she would have found the proper path that bound all her wishes into one. Wishes so numerous she could pray each one to the stars in the sky. And it seemed one star heard her call. If not, she wouldn't have been faced with this boy before any other in her aimless mission.

He was young, far too young. But he would open the path to her desired end. In the end, how did he lead her elsewhere?

When Ellis fell and she lay helpless in that place. When he had no reason to pick her up after beating her down. He dragged her into the shadows. She had assumed she would be, beaten, killed, maybe even raped, or worse; handed over to the authorities of this city of machines. But he did none of those. He stayed with her, protected her, nursed her and made sure no one found her. When she was well enough to walk, he merely told her to go.

She was a sinner, he was not a saint. There was absolutely no reason to let her go but he did. He said she should escape. Perhaps he was smart, perhaps it was just kindness but he had saved her. Maybe he knew that she wanted to start a war? Maybe he understood that if she were caught then maybe a conflict between magic and science would occur. But when she'd asked why, he only answered:

"It wasn't that big a deal."

She'd tried to kill him. She had tried to crush him, but to no avail with that accursed right hand of his breaking through her every defense and Ellis' attacks. It all ended in failure but it did not change that she had wanted to end his life.

"What person would value their life so little?", she had unknowingly said. She remembered watching Ellis die. She remembered begging the others to save him. She cried, she screamed and she even clawed at them to save him. But nothing, the value of the life before them was less than nothing. It was as if that life should have just disappeared, if not never been born.

"No one thinks lowly of their life.", he told her. "No life is meaningless and no life is useless. We aren't people who should judge its worth. But I don't believe any life can be tossed aside so easily."

"Then why do you forgive me so easily? I just tried to kill you.", she came close to breaking down.

"Nah.", he brushed off the notion. "You weren't trying to kill me. We just got into a fight. It's not much different from my everyday life. People with special powers that can kill me attack me all the time. This was just one of those times alright?".

Was he being kind? Was he being clever? The smile he had when he spoke those words reflected both. A slyness that lay beneath innocence. A rare subject she could not decipher when she had previously decoded spells of the highest complexity from little more than fragments of pottery. She could not read him, nor could she see through his intentions.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

_Idiot_

Ah, maybe that was why. She couldn't read him, he had spoken the words of salvation she had locked in her heart. He had seen the many wishes and found their root. All of these he could do because he was honest. He didn't hide anything. He could not be deciphered because there was nothing to read through. He could see to the root because he did not believe in the complications that anchored a basic thought to being an immaterial idea. He believed, he had faith. His words always rang out with one voice and his hands worked for the sake of one goal. From the very beginning his right hand had been grasping at only one justice while she was chasing the lights of distant stars.

She had said he was a fool but perhaps she was the fool? She had told him that there were things in this world that shouldn't exist. Aberrations that should never be, but hadn't that been what they had said about her friend on that day? Wasn't it those words that echoed from then to now in her heart in response to her cries for aid in his name?

"Ellis... I've been such a fool.".

A hand reached out to her. She looked up to the owner of that familiar right hand.

"Everyone's been an idiot once or twice in their life. Wether you grow smarter from it though, that's a whole different story.", on his face was that smile. That care free smile that held no trace of steely conviction from the battle to the death before. But there was an edge, a sense of unease that crept to his hand in a shake that could not be removed.

He was cautious, of her. She smiled wryly, perhaps he wasn't as simple an idiot as she thought. He didn't completely trust her and honestly she didn't put all her faith in him as well. In the world of magicians it was a sure way of getting yourself killed. In the world of magicians nobody reached out to others willingly. It was and will always be a world for the one, the individual. Any bond is little more than a means to a goal.

_In the end, you just didn't want to lose your friend. Right?_

That's right, she just didn't want to lose her friend. In this world of lies and conspiracies where everyone was just a tool to each other, she wanted that bond. She wanted a trust that would not betray her. She wanted a friend. She looked down on her hand. It was so much bigger now than when she last truly laid eyes on it. She remembered a much smaller hand, a much daintier hand. A tanned hand that reached out and grasped pale shaky palms. It was a wary hold, a dubious lifeline, but at that time hadn't she grasped it as well? Her one justice, her one truth. Didn't she believe in a simple thought that let her reach out to hands just as unsure as the one before her? Yes, she reached out and she would reach out again. Taking this right hand before her in her grasp. The one thought from the beginning echoing in her heart

_I want to be your friend._

Had circumstances been different, Sherry Cromwell would not form this pact. Had circumstancesbeen different, perhaps she would have killed many people and lead herself to a path beyond salvation. But with these circumstances, she held in her hands that one justice and that bond. Her starry sky hadnow been cleared by that shining light. And she would bask in its glow 'til 'ever's end.


	4. affection for the apocalypse

Up above the sky, far beyond the clouds lay the sea of stars. On fortunate nights, one would be able to see them twinkle beautifully. Spread across a canvas of velvet, a collection of fine diamonds. But if one travelled beyond 5000 meters, they would see much of the same sight at night regardless of whether the sky was clear or not. Had circumstances been different, perhaps she would be looking up at these stars. Had circumstances been different, perhaps she would have been able to share this sight with someone close to her heart. As it stood, circumstances would not allow her to watch the stars with people close to her heart. In fact, beneath this splendor of these pinpricks of light was something that should not be there. A mass of land that could be described as the amalgamation of churches and holy structures. One as big as a city block crested over the clouds 5000 meters in the air and showed no stop of rising. It was the Star of Bethlehem, and beneath a thousand lights flickered red and yellow as black tendrils of smoke reached up to sully the heavens. The circumstances that surrounded them were that of World War III.

He sat in that carriage, or maybe cart would be more appropriate? A remnant of the trains that once traversed the tracks of the military base this floating monolith came from. He sighed despite himself. In this place so high up in the sky, he was supposed to get ready to face his greatest nemesis yet. He held his right hand before him, the right hand that had guided him from one situation into the next. The right hand that had always caused him misfortune, the right hand that had always ensured his survival against the most impossible of odds. As well as the right hand that could wipe out lives at a single touch. It was a hand he used to avoid tragedy, but it was also a hand that invited it as well.

"My first question: are you unwell?"

Kamijou Touma looked to the person beside him. She was a girl in practically nothing. What could be seen as a red habit only extended from her headdress into a cape of sorts. Beyond that she wore nothing but a revealing dress that seemingly composed of nothing but leather straps securing a translucent red cloth. It was a sight beyond revealing but it was still worn by someone who identified herself as a nun of the orthodox russian church, a member of Annihilitus. A member of a special sect within the church that dedicated themselves to the extermination of the supernatural with abilities and methods that went beyond what humans were capable of.

"Oh? It's nothing Mi-... Sasha."

Despite having seen someone in the same body overpower a full grown man convicted of serial murders, Kamijou Touma couldn't feel worked up over it. In fact he was despondent in a sense, like a jaded man that already saw all the wonders that could be offered.

Angel Fall

0930

British Halloween

Three incidents which revolved around the powers of angels. Just like the power of the angel that wreaked havoc down beneath the Star of Bethlehem. The same power that caused this artificial night to fall on this midday battle.

Misha Kreutzev, Power of God, Archangel Gabriel.

Those were the names that labelled the being soaring the sky below. A being of such unbelievable power that even the planets and stars aligned according to their will. Touma clenched his right fist. At that time, at the seaside. What had she been thinking? What had Misha Kreutzev been thinking? What was she thinking now? What was her will? He had been told that angels had no will. They were bags of telesma with programs to be executed integrated into their very being to perform specific functions. Automatons of pure power. But he had glimpsed it then, back at that beach.

_My personal opinion: Hm, sweet foods are good. I often say that sweets are a source of longevity, it reminds me of God's grace._

When she had activated the sweep, hadn't she hesitated? Kanzaki had explained then that Misha did not have the power to immediately activate the sweep. But right now, Misha Kreutzev fired the sweep without delay or lag. Was the power she had now greater? Was her power then less? But even then, could she not have forced the spell to fruition sooner at that time? What had kept her?

Maybe it was this substance called telesma. Maybe it was those leylines which seemed so important to magicians. The elements and four cardinal directions even. Or was it the alignment of the stars? All of those could have been factors. But in the end, Touma had seen it. Under those circumstances where the world would end in a time limit set by a being of another plane. The wrapper of that one piece of gum he offered. She still had it clenched in her right hand.

_WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS! AT LEAST SAY SOMETHING! LISTEN UP, I'M ANGRY, I'M REALLY ANGRY! THERE'S NO ROOM FOR NEGOTIATION, REMOVE THIS SPELL RIGHT NOW!_

He had screamed out those words. Those naive words that had been given way by anger. That time, she looked at him like he was odd. She looked at him like a struggling insect as it was pinned down by its wings. A look that clearly said: "Why should I?". But mixed in that look was something else. He watched for it, those signs that he hoped for. The signs that there was someone in there named Misha Kreutzev whom he had befriended. An inkling of hesitation ghosted over her features. She responded, with her true voice that came out in a piercing shriek garbled in such a way it was heavily reminiscent of old dial up internet.

_krTOUMAhw... tlIqg... fbSWEETzv... mpTHANKdt..._

A heavy static overtook her.

_bzzzt... wfNOty... shRETURNpq..._

Those were the last words he'd heard at that time before Kanzaki had told him to stop Angel Fall. The last words he'd heard from Misha Kreutzev before her gaze turned cold. She was swallowed up by the overwhelming directive that was God's will. It had been explained to him then, it had been explained to him then. But what he saw overcame it right? Even for just a moment, those words weren't part of her directive right? The will of God. Angels were absolutely obedient to it. They completed it without fail and without excess, only to the letter. So why had she said those words?

"My first observation: This is not nothing."

Sasha Kreutzev gave Kamijou a pointed look. He turned his gaze to her for a moment before smiling lightly.

"Maybe."

Yes, maybe. Maybe it wasn't part of God's will. Maybe those words weren't part of her directive? Maybe they were her own? It was possible wasn't it? Tsuchimikado had explained to him that she was basically formed with a program. An intelligence with a preset of rules built into it. Directives that should be followed. Her psyche was a program. But even programs had bugs. She was something perfect and pure. But coming in contact with something imperfect and impure. Had she changed? No, that was too romantic a thought. It was less a change but more a re-evaluation. She was always an automaton. She executed her directives perfectly and so she saw herself as nothing more than such. But being surrounded by humans, being alongside humans. Wasn't it possible a fragment of her began to see herself as human?

"Maybe."

Touma repeated that word under his breath. Looking at the clear night sky above the clouds, the twinkling stars and flaming arrows that stood at the ready to rain down on an angel's command. A beautiful but terrifying sight.

"My second observation: The man who opposes Fiamma of the right is a weirdo who speaks to himself."

"Bfffft!? Where did that come from?"

"My first self-reminder: Stay away from this weirdo. Vasilisa is plenty."

"What!? Who is this Vasilisa? I am not a weirdo!"

"My second self-reminder: He has been staring at his right hand for some time while sitting beside a young woman like me. Perhaps he is..."

"Stop! Stop! I demand you not finish that sentence right this instant!"

BOOM!

Explosions rocked the cart, throwing the two off balance. Touma quickly recovered from the violent jostling and headed towards the window. He looked around frantically, trying to identify what could have caused those explosions. up above were still those flaming arrows of the sweep. the artificial night was clear except for the stray academy city bombers that have yet to be shot down as well as the floating pieces of the Star of Bethlehem which repeatedly broke off then rejoined. Peering down towards the ground, the sight of small objects growing in his vision made Kamijou's face pale.

"Those are-"

BOOM!

Shockwaves threw the boy down on the small area that would be the cart floor.

"BALLISTIC MISSILES!?", he screamed incredulously.

Indeed, ballistic missiles fired from the ground.

"Argh! What idiot ordered the firing of these missiles at a time like this!?"

Down below, a certain red princess sneezed.

"That revealing dress finally catching up to you in this tundra?", a sickly looking woman smiled thinly as she patted her own thin but layered dress.

Princess Carissa looked towards the Maiden of Versailles and grumbled, "Aah, blow it out your nose.".

Back above, the sight of the missiles grew larger. And behind even those, the regular highschool boy watched powerlessly as another salvo was following. His right hand was useless against ballistic missiles, what should he do? But the answer was already made for him. He could do nothing.

BOOM!

That was why the missiles stopped by another's power. Light and shockwaves rent the air but Kamijou Touma remained standing within the carriage. His hands gripping tightly for reasons other than stability. For outside, under the pale moonlight, he saw a white figure faintly glowing like luminescent moss against the black smoke and orange flame. It was an eerie glow which blurred the true shape of the body. Man? Woman? Human? That questionable physique which was slender but at the same time strong. An expressionless face that featured eyes, lips and nostrils all all seemingly chiseled from a single stone of marble.

"Misha... Kreutzev?", spoke Touma's oddly dry mouth.

The figure seemed to hear him as it turned only for a moment to look at him. Soulless, emotionless chalk white eyes that reflected nothing but a blank canvas. She begins to speak but the voice is nothing more than screeches. Misha Kreutzev turns completely to face Touma's cart which is still travelling the rails at a relatively fast pace. His pulse raced and his sweat ran down his neck.

"Misha Kreutzev.", he said in a whisper.

The angel reached out with one hand. It's voice was still screeching.

"Misha Kreutzev!"

Touma shouted as he feared that she would attack him under Fiamma's order.

"MISHA KREUTZEV!"

She had begun screeching loudly and incessantly as her fingers stretched out to him. Enough so that the hands which had been gripping at the corners of the window quickly grabbed at his ears in order to suppress the painful shrieks. He wanted to shut it out. He wanted to shut that noise out.

"STOP!"

Touma screamed the word out himself. He wanted that pain to stop. He wanted Misha Kreutzev to stop. He looked out the window with eyes bleary from pain. He could see her silhouette, oddly outlined by the glow from her body. But that face, those eyes, those lips and nostrils. Those which should have been emotionless. Why did they seem so sad?

Confusion overtook Kamijou Touma as a name rang in his head.

"krfTOUMAwbt!"

"M-Misha? Misha Kreutzev?"

Kamijou repeated the russian name, but this time in confusion.

Some form of inexplicable gladness seemed to have overcome the angel as it stopped its screeching. Its features almost smiled. Its outstretched hand falling limp at its side. What was going on?

BZZZT!

Static. The same sound Touma heard then as well. The sound similar to a high pitched dial-up internet connection. Something was changing. Something was happening to Misha Kreutzev. Touma watched as time seemed to slow down. He heard the familiar screech as the angel's eyes met his.

"ldnTOUMAqgt bwyTOUMAflt meet. I'm glad."

With those last words spoken in the language of humans, Archangel Misha Kreutzev screamed. It was not the screech of an angel's voice trying to speak. It was purely a scream. One that echoed between the voice of a man and a woman. It's as if she was in pain.

"MISHA!"

Touma shouted in worry. But that was moot. After that scream the angel flew straight at the cart. The speed of which was so great the vehicle may as well have been moving still. Kamijou was face to face with it. He saw the face of a true angel as it appeared right before his window in the moment before it would knock the wooden vessel of the track with its body. It was emotionless and there was no trace of the Misha Kreutzev he knew.

_No!_

SLAM!

an explosive impact threw the cart tipping dangerously off the rails but still keeping to it. Touma trembled as he sat on the floor. His eyes were still able to see out the window. No matter how it was shaking, the carriage was still well on its way. It was on its way to Fiamma of the Right, not spiraling down to the icy ground below. Because the blow that should have led to that was intercepted. An angel was stopped... by another angel.

Kazakiri Hyouka had entered the scene. Her foot had kicked away the archangel and the two supernatural beings now floated on opposing ends of this conflicted sky. The brown eyes behind were normally soft, but now they held steely resolve.

"I won't let you hurt my friends.", declared the angel of science.

She looked towards the carriage. Making sure it was safely away before starting this battle which she involved herself in. "Everything's alright now.", she mouthed. "I will protect you.". That was her intention. She flew from Academy City, following the AIM field path set-up by the Misaka Network to do just that.

_Don't hurt her!_

Kazakiri knit her eyebrows in confusion. Kamijou was at the window, banging and screaming. "Don't hurt her!" he was screaming.

"Please don't hurt her!", Kamijou roared inside the cart. Sasha Kreutzev was off to the side of the cart, watching him silently.

"I'm an idiot. I'm such an idiot!", Kamijou continued this pointless tantrum. "She's our friend. So please don't hurt her!". But even if he shredded his throat with the volume he was forcing, that voice would not carry over. Hyouka would not hear. He only prayed that his feelings would somehow be sent over. He prayed, Kamijou Touma prayed as the cart entered the darkness of the interior once more. His legs giving way, sliding down to meet the floor.

Why? Why did he never notice? Misha Kreutzev. Wasn't she suffering?

When she was screeching and reaching towards him, didn't she just want to meet him? Wasn't she just hoping for him to acknowledge her? Idiot! Idiot! He was such an idiot. That time, at the beach. He saw her as a threat to humanity, but hadn't she thanked him? She wasn't being contradictory to spite him. The sound of static, the sound of that modem connecting. Wasn't that the sound of a forced override? Misha Kreutzev. What if she indeed had her own heart? What if she had indeed her own will? Why did he believe this before but completely disregard it as soon as Kanzaki and Tsuchimikado told him otherwise? Because they were experts in magic? All this time, all this time Misha Kreutzev was there, wanting to meet him. It was his friend, the one he shared gum to. And continuously she is forced to follow set directives by God and this time by Fiamma of the right against her will. Her own heart sealed by the very essence of her being which is Archangel Gabriel. Why didn't he notice earlier that she wanted to be saved?

Once upon a time, he had said. "Maybe the angel just wanted to be human?"

It was scoffed at. The experts on the topic said that these beings known as angels had no emotions.

"Then what is Misha Kreutzev?"

Kamijou grit his teeth. He clenched his right fist hard as stone, and smashed it against the poorly carpeted floor.

"Why the hell didn't I do anything when she reached out to me!? Why did I push her away when she reached out for me!?"

And to that outburst, only Sasha Kreutzev bore witness. In that carriage which clicked, clacked and whined on the rails. She watched the boy breakdown as he realized he had shunned someone seeking to be saved. He had turned away a friend.

High upon the atmosphere, Kazakiri Hyouka watched in stunned amazement as the desperate expression of Kamijou Touma disappearred into the depths of darkness within the Star of Bethlehem.

_Friend_

_This being_

Kazakiri turned her glowing wings so she could face the archangel.

_This person is our friend._

_Just like I am their friend._

She grabbed above her left breast. The place where her heart should have been. It was the place where a human heart should be. She didn't have one. But she felt it constrict. She felt it hurt. This was sympathy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.

Understood

The triangle based AIM core prism inside of the science born angel spun. Keys singing as they slid in and out excitedly like a living organ being agitated. "You're just like me.", Hyouka spoke gently. "You are part of a system. You are being manipulated against your will. But all you want, is to be with the people important to you.".

"..."

"The person on that carriage, he was important to you wasn't he?"

"..."

"I can understand how you feel. He is important to me as well."

"..."

"That is why I will protect him, and his wishes.", Kazakiri's halo and wings shone brilliantly at that declaration.

psssht

"To- u... ma- I... wa- nt... to- meet- you... Save... me..."

pssssshhhhhhhhttttttt

! #$%#%&*^() #$ _(*&^%$#!#%^#%&(! #!%&(^%(

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

So here at chapter 4 may be a bit long. Well it is a story that revolves around 3 characters. It focuses on Touma's thoughts but it also takes into consideration Misha Kreutzev's feelings. I really wanted to include Hyouka more, but I feel like I missed my timing. So I'm hoping to make a sequel to this somewhere down the line.

To my 12 subscribers, thanks. Really, thank you guys. I think I'm keeping with this because of you guys despite how badly my last chapter was received.


	5. The night's still young

28-years-old and single. That was Yomikawa Aiho. A woman with a body fit for a model, long flowing black hair tied in a messy but sensual ponytail, a nice rack and a personality that threw all sense of femininity out the window with her standard choice of dress. She was decidedly, an _old maid_. Honestly, the woman could easily catch a man and stuff him in a bag the poor sod would willingly jump into. But for all that convenience, Yomikawa was just a tad reluctant to put on a proper dress or at least a tight pair of jeans and shirt that would show off her figure. Instead she normally wore a green PE jersey that was standard for her day job as a teacher at _a certain high school_. Currently however, Aiho was not at her day job, no. Rather she was working on her secondary job, the one she was actually good at.

Yomikawa sat dejectedly at the wheel of a black armored truck which was built especially to carry anti-skill personel and prisoners. Yes, Yomikawa Aiho is a part of the security force of Academy City known as anti-skill, recognized as one of the best but currently relegated to driving around her colleagues for the night. This however was not the reason she looked so depressed. Her back was hunched over the steering wheel, pressing it with her generous bust. The thick padding of her standard issue anti-skill stab proof armor rendered the sensation negligible. In a small act of defiance against procedure, she was not wearing the helmet that came with the set, leaving her ponytail spilling wildly over her shoulders as she buried her face into her arms. Anyone looking at her would be able to tell she was tired. She breathed in deeply before releasing a sigh that contained the day's stresses.

"I don't really mind my parents calling, but it's always the same thing when they do.", Aiho grumbled to herself. "When will they get a clue that I'm not interested in any marriage interviews?".

That was the source of this young woman's worries. Though it can be said that 28 is still young, in the culture of Japan that's not so. Rather 28 was already too old. In older times the age when a woman was considered marriageable lasted only till the eve of her 26th birthday. Our 28-year-old had shot past that point long ago. By how the phone call from the afternoon went, it sounded as if Mrs. Yomikawa's daughter had suddenly gone barren. Or on another note, decide to enter a nunnery and never marry. As if either case would ever happen. Aiho was a healthy young woman, and whether she exercised herself in romance or more was her business. As for the life of serving human spirituality, she was far too involved in the city of science to speak of faith and her habits of cigarettes with liquor would not be ebbed so easily with an oath. In Short, yes, Yomikawa still had plans of settling down. No, now was not the time. Especially not while she was working 18 hours a day with one of two jobs assuring her a 20% mortality rate on a good day.

"Yomikawa."

A hand banged roughly against the black truck. Aiho quickly sat at attention, her spine cricking a bit at the suddenness of the motion. The female anti-skill looking to her colleague with a pained look on her face, a look mirrored by the man who was decked out in full anti-skill wear including helmet.

"You alright?", the man had the decency to ask after that sick sounding click.

Aiho waved it off quickly with no intent to cause trouble for her friends, "I'm fine.". She loosened up her shoulder before stretching out a bit. The urge to yawn accompanied the act and she could not swallow it down before it came at a much higher decibel than she would have preferred.

Despite Yomikawa's worries of looking unseemly, the man just shook his head with an empathizing light to his eyes. "Must've been a rough day. Heard the old couple called.", he lightly spoke up.

"Ahck!", Yomikawa groaned like a child before the fellow anti-skill.

It was common knowledge to all in the office about Yomikawa and her _plight_. Source of such information was mainly from rumors but it was the woman herself that condemned her fate on one muggy day. Despite the summer heat, Yomikawa then had still opted to keep her jersey on. The teacher's staff room had its AC undergoing maintenance so the enclosed space acted more like an oven than anything else. It was then that Aiho's parents had called and the contents of their conversation had such been another omiai, ending with a vehemently embarrassed scream of protest upon the other end declaring that they would show pictures of the unwilling spinster in a swimsuit during her teenage years. Needless to say that was an incident that would never be spoken of but ubiquitously known within the confines of the office.

"You have no idea.", Yomikawa began with a drawl.

Suddenly the sounds of clacking and shifting metal sounded from behind. The telltale screech of the rear door opening sounded before footsteps and a lurch of the suspension told Yomikawa someone was boarding.

"Well good thing I don't.", the man smiled. "This means I can tack this job onto you without feeling guilty.", he jabbed a thumb towards the back of the truck where a crackdown on a skill-out gang was currently in progress. "We need you to transfer some suspects towards the 5th precinct. Captain says that some stragglers might be left running around so most of the team will be stuck out here keeping the search going. Netsuki and Harada will be on security detail with you so you don't have to worry about any break outs.".

The depressed woman audibly smacked her head against the dividing wall that separated the front of the truck from the back. She sensed a sudden stillness probably from the back where some form of argument or another was being stifled by the dividing wall. Listening carefully, she could make out the voice of the young woman Netsuki. She was more or less berating in a fed up manner which gave Yomikawa a reason to give a wry smile. That woman was always the short fuse amongst them. The other one sounded male, younger, probably one of the skill-outs. She didn't bother to continue listening before turning to the male anti-skill at the window to confirm her job. He gave her a nod once confirming that the total load would be six suspects along with the two other anti-skills, she reached down to the ignition and turned the key. The truck's suspension creaked in protest again and Yomikawa assumed it was her compatriots alighting to grab another prisoner.

Normally she wanted to be out on the field, helping the children get back on the right path and protecting innocent bystanders. But now there really wasn't much energy left for Aiho to process. In addition to the physically and emotionally draining call from this afternoon, the female anti-skill had participated in the continuous week long raid operations on a chain of inter-related research facilities that subjected children to inhumane experiments. The last one had to be done in a span of four hours, shutting down seven laboratories straight before each one could alert the other and cleanly make their getaway.

BANG!

Aiho ducked on reflex at the sound. It was a sound she was most acquainted with in her line of work, even though most of who she apprehended were children with special powers, the one thing that never separated from her work were the sounds of-

"Gunfire?"

The anti-skill shifted quickly from depressed to deathly serious. Her face becoming the mask of a hardened combatant in less than a heartbeat. Her body swung out the window, hanging in the vehicle only by her seatbelt. She quickly withdrew into the seat again as a wave of 9mm bullets splashed against the armored hide of the door. She swore aloud and quickly undid her seatbelt, one hand simultaneously reaching for her iconic riotshield.

She was quick to alight but before she could a weight slammed the door shut.

"What are you doing Yomikawa?", it was the man from before. Unlike then he was practically screaming now over the rattling gunfire in the air.

"Someone's shooting at us. I'm going to help.", she replied before trying to shove the car door open.

The man shook his head as he continued to keep the vehicle door shut with his body. "I gave you a job didn't I? You are to transport prisoners to precinct 5. Those guys are probably skill-out reinforcements to take back the prisoners. Our squad will manage against them somehow."

"But-!"

"If you feel guilty then just don't mind that you aren't getting that security detail. Now get!"

Aiho wanted to say more but the male anti-skill had already plowed back into the fray behind the truck. She heard the rear doors of the wagon lock and the clang of limbs against the armor, telling her to hurry up. In the face of all this expectation and trust, Yomikawa found it hard to step down from the driver's seat. She tightened her grip on the shield, biting her lip before harshly tossing the object to the passenger side. Putting on her seat belt, she muttered, "None of you better die.".

A booted foot slammed down on the accelerator. The anti-skill vehicle known as _the wagon_ quickly sped up from 0 to 95 kph in less than five seconds. Its current master taking hold of the wheel with a grip resembling the steel it was made of. Yomikawa replaced the radio she'd just used to call for back-up when bullets screamed through the air and attempted to pierce the outer plating. They did nothing other than annoy the driver.

"What the? Are they following me?". Aiho looked towards her side mirror and noticed the two vans chasing her. One of them was open with a young man hanging on for dear life with one hand while the other was spraying bullets with less of an aim than a prayer.

"You idiot, that's dangerous!", The female anti-skill hissed before suddenly decelerating. She pressed a button to pull up the bulletproof glass of her door just in time as pistol shots cracked out. They slammed into the polycrystalline material specially developed by the city 20-30 years ahead of the world, leaving not a scratch. Aiho looked to the side with a devilish grin that made the young man shooting at her pale. It was hard to see who was the villain now when Yomikawa intentionally plowed the wagon into the offensive van. The young man was blown back by the impact, alive only because he managed to slide the door shut to prevent the worst of it.

Yomikawa watched the van screech to a halt to regain control while the wagon still continued on its way without slowing down any more. A jolt from behind brought her back to reality and Aiho looked to her side mirror again. It was the other van. The woman anti-skill grit her teeth as she flattened the accelerator against the floor as best as she could. The wagon could most likely outrun them. It was specially modified with newer Academy City technology than most and could reach 200 kph easily. Things never went so easy though, at least not in this line of work. An explosion shook the whole of the wagon right down to the chassis. Prompting Yomikawa to look at her side mirror again, she paled when she saw that the van's side was open now. It was less the van was open than the similar sight of a young man with a weapon that got her anxious. The boy was toting a grenade launcher.

"Gah! As if recklessly shooting a pistol wasn't bad enough!", she pulled on the emergency brake and quickly skidded to a near stop. The van directly behind turned just in time to avoid her and slammed on the brakes as well. "So the same trick won't work twice.", seethed Aiho through her teeth. The law enforcer Fired the accelerator again before her vehicle could come to a complete stop. She bumped into the back of the truck before the young man could aim the grenade launcher properly in her direction. The impact knocked the young man off balance, giving Aiho enough time to gain some speed. She ran parallel with the other vehicle before attempting to plow into it like she did the last one. The van decelerated at the twitch of the wagon's nose and it was all Aiho could do to keep it in her control after that failed attack. "Tch!", she grasped the steering wheel tightly, trying to come up with a new plan to disable that van.

Her eyes were constantly flickering between the road and the van in her side mirror. Thankfully it was the dead of night so there was no traffic to speak of. This left Aiho with more leeway to pay attention to the trailing van, especially now that the young man with the grenade launcher was back at the door with a bazooka. Wait what?

There was no time to be shocked as the blast exploded right by the rear right tire of the wagon. Shrapnel bounced noisily against the plating but Yomikawa was less worried for the vehicle and more for any random passerby getting caught in the blast. After all, the wagon is the latest in academy city technology, even the reinforced tires wouldn't be blown out from just that kind of shock. Espers on the other hand were not always subject to the same level of security by their powers.

BANG!

A second explosion hit the wagon directly in the back. This time Yomikawa was worried. The wagon was built like a tank, but even tanks were susceptible to direct hits from such heavy weapons. She looked back to the mirror and her mouth could not help but gape. The first van she'd taken out had caught up. The young man at the side opening was different from the one with the pistol. Instead of a pistol however, this second youth was holding a bazooka similar to the one in the second van.

"Gah! That's really dangerous! Really really dangerous!".

And that danger presented itself very well as the two fired in tandem. Aiho used all the driving skills at her disposal to dodge the shots. She snaked around the patterned bombing. It almost looked like she was reading all their shots. But in truth the female anti-skill was sweating up a storm. All of those near misses had just been the result of luck. Because whatever skill she had in driving was almost never applicable to being the pursued as she was usually the pursuer. So lacking the proper skills, Yomikawa did what she did best, improvise.

"Come on! Come on! There has to be something!", Yomikawa grit her teeth as sweat dripped down her brow. She risked a peek at her surroundings and screamed when one bazooka shot shook the wagon again. She stared straight ahead, watching for any sign that she was going off course. Then she noticed, "This is..."

_A factory!_

On the outskirts of a factory complex, the space was wide but inside would just be big enough for machinery and employee parking. Those were not Aiho's targets though. The most ideal place to hide in this situation is-

"Here!", she practically screamed as she pulled the wagon into a ninety degree turn. Nearly flipping the vehicle in the process. Two bazookas fired at the moving vehicle, dead center to the broad side.

But by some miracle, or a stroke of fortune as one might say. One van which had a clean shot hit a bump. This bump was not that big. It couldn't even register as a speed hump. But at how fast these cars were going, it was enough to shake the whole thing including the perfectly aligned shot. So when the shots were fired, one slammed quite close to the wagon, clipping the corner wall of the building which the target had fled to. The other shot which was skewed would have cleared that wall from its angle completely destroying the wagon but instead the shot flew up and slammed into the building opposite of the one with the clipped wall. Debris fell, blocking the narrow road, that could unmistakenly be called an alleyway.

"Shit! We had him!", the young man from the second van swung the bazooka against the car in a fit.

The bazooka wielder from the first van whistled looking at the damage he caused before appraising, "There ain't no way we're getting past that. Least not now."

"Well that's obvious.", pointed out the angry youth. "You basically pulled down half the ledging off that thing.", his finger raised at the destroyed portion of the upper floors.

"Ugh... my head.", the youth who had fired the pistol turned up from the first one. "Did we get him?".

"Pfft. I'd think so."

"What? Are you kidding? That thing took an RPG right down the middle of the back. And it was still running!"

"Tch! An RPG is different from two tons of rock smashing down on you."

"Either way we can't do this cause you messed up!"

"Well Merlin over here shouldn't have been dumb enough to get offed by the big titted anti-skill!"

"That woman was crazy!"

"Whatever!", the young man from the second van ended the argument. "Sawada, get us out of here!". The van's engine revved in response to the command. Soon the van was on its way, followed by the first.

Beneath the crumbling concrete, gravel and steel bars, dust swirled in an odd pattern. It was visible under the light of the scant streetlight scattered about. But if one looked close enough, on strand of light was oddly red, a brake light.

"Goh...", Yomikawa Aiho groaned from the driver's seat of the anti-skill wagon. Her body ached all over, the front of her person numb from the shock of a sudden stop. An airbag kept her head safe from impact but her sternum and rib cage felt constricted under the seat belt she wore. Sluggishly, the woman pushed a button to deflate the airbag while simultaneously undoing her seat belt. She remembered rushing into the narrow alleyway which would barely fit the wagon. Spark flying at her door then shaking, shocks and then darkness. She noted never to do that to herself again.

Groping around in the dim light, she noticed the familiar smell of construction. Or rather deconstruction. The windshield before her was caved with massive rocks, held back only by the sheer strength of the bullet proof mass of crystal. The door windows were much in the same state, coupled with the fact they were wedged between the walls with locks probably deformed. That meant the only viable way out would be the back. So she turned to the wall that separated the sections and undid the latch on a panel. A click and snap later, Aiho was now permitted access to the back of the wagon through a small door in the dividing wall. It was equally dark, the car light of the wagon was not working properly but little strands of light were spilling from the rear doors.

"No way.", she breathed. Running to the source of the lights, she was met with an expected sight. The doors were a mess of gnarled metals and burnt plastics. "The RPG from earlier.", she reminded herself of the one blast from the second shot. She dared to try forcing the door open but the thing would not budge. She took a peak outside and groaned at the sight of rocks blocking the door as well as its own misshapen size forcing it stuck.

Seeing as those were no good, Yomikawa decided that radioing in her location would probably be the best so reinforcements could pick her quickly crossed the threshold to the front of the wagon and pulled on the radio receiver. But something was wrong. "No power?", Yomikawa mumbled. It was oddly dark when she woke-up...

The anti-skill woman quickly brought a hand up to flick the switch on the cabin light, but nothing. "Ugh.", Yomikawa groaned for the umpteenth time that day. Built like a tank indeed. The electrical systems were built with centralized wiring. The shock and deformation must've cut off one of the main lines. Translation: **_She was stuck and there was nothing she could do about it._**

In her frustration Yomikawa actually roared and threw down the rounded receiver. She was tired, she was lacking sleep, she had just escaped from a high speed car chase that ended with her having heavy weaponry raining down all around, finally its topped with being buried alive under three tons of concrete. Lovelier still is she's only lived off rations for the past week with living conditions that required her to not change out of this anti-skill uniform for the week due to how hectic the clean-up operations were. A very good reason for her not to wear the helmet as it had been stinking up with sweat.

"Ugh!"

Those were the exact thoughts in Aiho's mind right now. She couldn't think. The frustration building up inside of her was starting to bubble up and overflow. Now that the danger had subsided, the depression from earlier over her parents' meddling in her life was returning full force. So what if she was 28? She was living her life happily! Her parents wanting to see grandchildren will still see grandchildren. They had her when they were just 21, they weren't even in their 50's yet! Now she wasn't dodging marriage because she didn't want to be tied down, she doubted any man could keep her under in a relationship and if push comes to shove she would never let him. She didn't have a problem with children either, in fact she loved them so much she became a teacher! Why couldn't they just understand that her work was important to her and that her work as an anti-skill was something she cherished second only to family? Why couldn't they understand that she couldn't date nor marry because week long operations that required her to shoot, hurt and kill people happened on a basis so often that she was afraid of touching her own child and smearing them with blood!? Had her circumstances been different, maybe she would be tucking her children in and sleeping in a warm bed with the love of her life right now.

"UUUGGGGHH!"

Yomikawa looked up. Tears she did not remember crying were running down her face. She quickly wiped them away before the groan repeated itself with twice as much gusto.

Who was that?

Yomikawa tried to wrack her mind for some form of hint. The wagon was mainly deployed to carry anti-skill to operation points and carriage of prisoners. Wasn't she tasked with transporting prisoners? But the attack happened before anyone could get on.

THONK!

The dull sound reminded her. Netsuki had gone in with someone and argued with him. Hadn't she assumed then that it was a prisoner? More memories and the vibrations from the explosions crawling over her skin, the image of the gnarled door showcasing the severity of the damage. "Crap!", was all she said as she rushed into the rear of the truck.

Her eyes quickly wandered about, scanning for any sign of the people who were boarded but it was just too dark. "Dammit.", she quickly reached for the walls and began to feel around for some sort of shape or bulk that would resemble a human being.

"UUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!"

THONK!

Hearing those sounds, Aiho looked behind her and noticed within the inky blackness a tinge of white. White cloth to be exact. It was part of a shirt, probably a uniform from the way it looked like a button-up. She rushed over to the white blot and leaned over to see the figure that was practically on its side. She pulled the boy up and she nearly sneezed when soft spikes of hair brushed up against her nose.

"UUUUUGGGGHHH!", the groan came from the boy. And he slammed his head back making that dull sound against metal. "Arm...", that was all he could manage out as he grit his teeth.

Yomikawa furrowed her brows in worry before going straight for them. They were both there , the arms were still on his shoulders and very much whole. However they were handcuffed by the wrist to a safety rail on the side benches. It was easy to guess that it must've hurt his arms when he fell on his side like that.

"You okay?", were the first words she uttered to the prisoner she was transporting.

"Ow... I'm still a little woozy and I think I won't be seeing straight for the next few minutes. Other than that I'm fine."

Yomikawa heard him say so but didn't quite believe him. His tone carried something similar to most delinquent she'd dealt with before. It was a tough guy voice. "Hold still.", she ordered before starting to grab, prod and poke him all over.

The groggy boy suddenly got a boost as he protested to this act. "O-oi! Ack!", he flinched as a stinging pain came from his face, particularly the cheekbone area.

Yomikawa sighed, she was right in guessing the boy's part in the scuffle which had anti-skill mobilized. The bruise on his face, arms and abdomen were anything to go by it was likely a big street fight. One big enough to have authorities alerted. "Your hurt all over.", Aiho voiced her observations.

"Well...", the young man sounded unsure. "You did arrest me for a brawl. Then there were those explosions that were throwing me around. Though my wrists took most of the damage there.". He jangled the cuffs a bit then hissed painfully at the movements.

Aiho reached for the cuffs and was surprised to feel a warm sticky liquid soak into her gloves. She lifted her hand up and smelled familiar copper. Blood. "You're bleeding.", she informed. Getting up, she went back to the front of the car and came back with a medical kit in her hands in less than a minute. "We've got enough supplies here to deal with a gunshot wound so I think we're safe with your wrists."

"Tch! They still hurt though.", the young man cried.

"Oh buck up.", the anti-skill rolled her eyes at the waterworks being displayed to her. "You go out and start a fight, get beat up, then in the end all it takes to get you crying is torn skin?".

"I have no idea what your priorities are but that's messed up. When I rank injuries at the very least I put those where I see blood coming out as more life threatening than those without blood. Like bruising for example."

"Bruising means internal bleeding. Just because you can't see the blood outside the body doesn't mean its dangerous. Internal hemmorhage is more dangerous than an open wood precisely because its unseen.", the PE teacher suddenly went into her lecture mode. But the young man wasn't having any of it.

"Fine fine. I give. But please, just get these cuffs off. They're really hurting."

Aiho gave him a look. She wasn't sure what kind of face she was making right now, but maybe it was one of pity. Or perhaps apology. She partially blamed herself for him getting caught up in the blast. Maybe if she had driven better. Yomikawa's lips frew into a thin line as she began her work. She peeled off her gloves systematically and undid the latches on the medical kit. Instantly pushing up the upper bottom to expose the gauze, stitches and surgical tools that might be needed, she confirmed all of their locations by touch alone. Using physical memory from the countless hours of training, Aiho nabbed a painkiller from the compartment built into the kit cover. She handed the pill over to Touma, "here. Drink this.".

The young man peered down at her hand curiously through the dark. Coupled with the spikes, Aiho thought he looked kind of like a furry critter, a hedgehog maybe which was kind of cute. Maybe. She sighed to herself for having such suddenly stupid thoughts. Measuring a glance, she could tell that the boy was clueless. "It's a painkiller. You'll need to dry swallow though, I don't have any water on hand.".

"Oh", was the simple response. They kind of stared at each other for awhile before someone had to break the awkward silence with more awkward. "You know, I can't exactly pop it in my mouth.", the young man informed the anti-skill woman.

Realizing what he was getting at, Aiho moved her hand closer to the boy's mouth. He leaned down and she felt his breath tickle her palm. There was a slightly wet sensation and some ticklishness tried to elicit a giggle from her. Once it processed these sensations, Aiho's brain concluded that the last thing she felt had been the boy's lips and tongue. It sent a chill running down her spine. An unpleasant chill.

Retrieving her hand, Yomikawa decided that it was time to breach a rather delicate subject. "Okay, I'm going to have to uncuff you to see your wounds.".

The boy looked around in confusion. It seemed he was unsure of where the woman was going with this. It was quite obvious after all. "Okay?". Yomikawa stepped right in front of him and reached behind his back. "Wha-? Oof!", the boy's face smacked right into Aiho's anti-skill armor. The plating inside solid enough to be felt despite the cushioning provided by the multiple layers of textile armor. He tried to pull back but the woman's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, resulting in him pulling her along. His efforts were rewarded by another smack in the face with anti-skill armor.

Aiho looked down on the young man and hissed, "Will you stop moving?". It was dark so the professional didn't bother to look, instead she was concentrating on undoing the cuffs through touch and touch alone. It was mostly inefficient fumbling, but she could undo the cuffs still.

**"Illegal tampering of anti-skill equipment detected. Target in proximity found. Now initiating capture sequence."**

CLICK!

"Well that's not good."

"GAH!", the young man screamed. "Wh- What do you mean by that's not good!?", he demanded of the anti-skill who for some reason still had her arms around him.

Yomikawa's face right now was kind of flat. There was no real emotion there but blank couldn't really describe it. Tense but unmoving, flat. She seemed to be confirming something in her brain. She gave a few tugs and found her theory to be true. Then she snapped. "Netsuki you idiot! How many times have we told you not to use the smart cuffs!?".

"Smart cuffs?", the young man pondered the term. It sounded familiar for some reason. From what he could vaguely remember, he was told by a friend named Tsuchimikado that smart cuffs were handcuffs with integrated AI and processing computers. These cuffs would clamp down and hold a person of any size regardless of wrist diameter. It used a bevy of infrared and contact sensors to calculate the ideal fit to restrain the suspect. It also had a self-defense function of cuffing anyone who tried to tamper with it improperly.

"Please don't tell me."

"Shut up."

"You're cuffed too aren't you?"

"I told you to shut up didn't I?", Yomikawa shot back dryly. Netsuki really was the one with the shortest fuse amongst the anti-skill squad. But that was less of her nature and more the fact she was the newest member. She lacked a vital thing called experience which made her easy to rile up and easy to fascinate. There had been many an occasion where her squadmates ended up in the worse end of a firefight because her preference for stupid smart cuffs that had people joined together by the wrists in pairs. It was a miracle that no one had died so far due to that.

"Ah! Such misfortune!", cried the young man and Yomikawa could not agree more.

* * *

Hello, this is the author for Had Circumstances Been Different. It's great if you're reading this as it means you may have read the chapter through. Honestly, this chapter is still incomplete, but I felt it had enough material to stand on its own. I hope it meets your expectations and I hope you've been entertained by Yomikawa's adventure. Hopefully you've spotted out spiky haired hero in this.

Like most of the previous chapters, this will eventually get a continuation. I've been stuck on what to write for the next chapter as each is equally enticing: Fukiyose's circumstances, Kongou's Circumstances or a continuation to Vento's Happy Little Hell.


	6. Understanding the Unreasonable

She wonders when things changed. She wonders when the person she hated with all her heart could make such a face. Why is it when she saw him, his eyes were always so lax, empty, content. He was the epitome of everything she hated. For people like her who was at a low level, working hard and desiring with a great ambition was what made her existence have meaning. It gave her a reason to remain in this wonderful city of technology. But that person, people like him who did not even try, people who gave up without consideration for those similar to them, people who are level 0's that are trying their hardest to become better. Why is it that face she cannot relate to effort had such a desparate expression? She did not know, she did not understand.

"Fukiyose!"

His voice resounded in her ears. Even as she berated him and threatened him with bodily harm, the concern in his voice was not for himself. The fear was not 'of her' but 'for her'. She could tell, she had been in such situations when someone was about to do something stupid. She approached him in that bustling field of dust and dirt. There was nothing that could harm her, the event was made to be safe. So she did not understand. What she knew, what she could understand was that Kamijou Touma had ruined the event she had erected.

"Kamijou! What are you doing here? Tsuchimikado as well! Were you so desparate to get at least a few wins that you entered a middle school competition?", she barked at them.

Those calls fell on deaf ears. Kamijou's eyes rested on her and solely on her. Rather his eyes were to her left side. Curious, she followed his gaze. It was one of the poles being used in the game. Was there something of interest there?

"Fukiyose get away from there!", he shouted over the noise.

She narrowed her gaze. Why? What was wrong? She followed his gaze again, concluding that it must have been the pole. Was it tampered with? Had they done something to it? Her lips tightened into a thin line, resisting the urge to snarl. Were those two idiots trying to sabotage her efforts?

Her hand reached out, she would examine the pole and expose what tomfoolery they'd been up to. Once she safely undid whatever it was, she would beat them senseless. They deserved just as much.

"Fukiyose don't!"

Loud footsteps stomped hard against the dirt field. Fukiyose's hand was outstretched but her attention was taken by the oncoming male before her. A second, a moment. For a fraction of a second she hesitated.

PAK!

A pop resounded loudly. It was actually a weak sound, but the way it sounded so organic made it stand out so much more.

"Wh-", Fukiyose was confused. Why was this person on the ground?

"Tsuchimikado!"

Kamijou Touma practically screamed the name of his close friend, the boy with bleached blonde hair and shades. He looked so out of place in this field when his features suggested he'd be the type to abandon events like these. He was even more out of place on the ground, seemingly beaten by an unknown force. His back was bending in fixed intervals, following the cues of popping sounds like a sick percussion instrument in a band. The way the pops sounded was reminiscent of one cracking their knuckles only Fukiyose was watching a young man have this happen to his whole body, mainly his back. It was not just disconcerting. She was terrified. Fukiyose had no idea what to do in this situation.

But Kamijou Touma knew what to do. He paused in his step and switched his momentum with nary a pause. He practically slid down to get a proper grip of his friend. Tsuchimikado was still convulsing, those sickening bony pops were not subsiding. With a mighty clap, Kamijou's palm met Tsuchimikado's back in manner making one think he was expelling some sort of demon.

With that one action, the terrifying sight stopped. Tsuchimikado's body no longer twitched unnaturally nor did it make any of those knuckle popping sounds. No comfort could be found in such though. Because Tsuchimikado who always seemed infallible was laying lifelessly on the ground. He was out cold, no movement, not even the rise and fall of his breathing could be seen without paying detailed attention. The normal highschool girl Fukiyose Seiri, in that one moment recognized the event as no longer just a prank. It was something dangerous. Her instincts, the one that existed as the base of human minds evolved from that of a lowly beast finally unleashed as terror was wrapping around her whole being.

She screamed.

A loud and piercing shriek that drove through the din of the already invalidated game, sounded over the siren demanding the end of this farce. But all of that didn't matter to Fukiyose, it was all just white noise now. The fact of the matter is, had circumstances been different, it would be her on the ground, cradled in Kamijou's arms like a boneless ragdoll. The gravity of it all was crashing down on her and her mind was being crushed under its weight.

PA!

The sound of a large hand contacting flesh rang in her ears. She barely registered the sting of her skin where she was roughly grabbed around the fore arm. Her feet scrambled to move along with her body as it was led somewhere. She was listless, a boil of emotions that should not have been in her on this day. Happiness replaced by sadness, thoughtfulness replaced by confusion, confidence replaced by terror. What is this?

"Fukiyose!"

The normal highschool girl whose only special points were her large forehead and breasts looked forward. It was a familiar head of spiky black hair. One she always related to the worst of humanity as someone who could be called a quitter. The one who should be seen as undependable as most any task given to him ended with _misfortune_ one way or another.

"No matter what happens now. Everything that you will see is real."

But why?

"That's why please"

Why is it that the sight of his back is so reassuring.

"No matter what happens, please face it head on!"

* * *

No idea why I wrote this for Fukiyose. Anyone willing to guess which circumstance got switched?

This is actually more like a prologue than an actual chapter for Fukiyose. If I do write one for her properly, should I continue with this line of story?


	7. patterned peace or perversion?

Mornings come too early. She feels that way, but she can't help but wake at the appointed hour. Her sleep cycles have always been like this. Asleep by 10, awake by 4. The exception only exists when she's on the battlefield. Devote an hour's prayer before and after every slumber. Meditate on each word and each verse uttered. So she fights at the sleep that stubbrnly clings to her eyes. She rubs at them vehemently to rid them of their weight. But her hand catches at something else, rather her sleeve. It has caught onto one of her piercings. She gives a grumbled sigh before undoing the tangle.

"Shumu shumu shumu shumu... Touma... bacon and eggs...whipped topping and marmalade... all day breakfast... shumu shumu shumu shumu."

She stares at her awkward bed fellow with utter disgust. Or at least, what should have been utter digust. Now, it's just plain annoying. She mumbles about how much of a disgrace to the clergy this silver-haired nun-in-training is despite being of another sect in Christianity. She still finds offense despite being someone of the Roman Catholic Church while the sleep talking girl is an English Puritan. But she no longer harbors that same venom. She can no longer muster that same venom. After living in these conditions for the past month, she can't find herself hating much of anything anymore. Not when the world of cold hostility she built up was being replaced by this unfair warmth.

She wonders to herself, feeling the feather soft locks of light blonde hair on her head. She misses her kirtle and headdress. Not for any reason of comfort nor fashion. She misses them because they symbolize her power. Vento of the Front. The one aligned to Uriel and the wind. How did she ever end up in this state?

Soft slender limbs, pale and flush from a night's sleep. Legs bared to a scandalous height of just above half her thighs. Her body clad in an overly large shirt that was filled with the scent of a man. It all painted such a sensual picture. But on the beautiful pale face were dozens of piercings, each one placed to symbolize self-loathing, self-suffering and inciting the hostility of others. It was ugly, it was penance. Nothing suited her more. She believed that, she believe that but... that guy faced her with such outright kindness.

She sighs as she prepares for the day's prayers.

It's approximately 5:16 when she finishes. The sun hasn't risen yet. It's around this time that Vento goes through the next part of her routine, toilet. She grabs her towel, her toothbrush and her spare change of clothes and underwear. Her mind is much clearer than when she first woke up after her meditative prayers. So she begins her thoughts on the day's work. What has to be done, what should not be done. She plans her escape, albeit half-heartedly.

Vento curses to herself. She wonders if this is what they call Stockholme Syndrome. She doesn't know really, it's a science term so she couldn't care less. The blonde woman visualizes all her annoyances gathering in her hand and roughly throws it at the bathtub. The ball of clothes she plans to wear smacks roughly into the wall over it before bouncing back into the tub in an audible heap. She doesn't bother to check this, it always goes in. So she brushes her teeth, undresses herself, humming a song from her homeland. She has long resigned herself to at least enjoying _something_ out of this stay.

If there was ever that one something she had come to apprciate, she supposed that it would be the lovely water heating system they had. She would draw the morning bath like always, slip into the warmth and enjoy it for a good half hour before letting the others have their turn like always.

Others...

Always...

Something about those two terms stick to Vento's mind. She wonders what they are as she approaches the bath. The tiles are still cold from the night, causing her whole body to perk up into gooseflesh. She enjoys the cold prickling sensation of the air on her bare skin as she approaches the tub. But again those two words strongly appear in her mind, like a warning of sorts.

She thinks on them but proceeds to collect her clothing from the tub. It's there she realizes the dread that those two words _'others' _and _'always'_ indicates. In the bath tub was a rather disconcerted young man in nothing but a shirt and shorts. His spiky black hair stark against the porcelain tub that you could see each individual strand shaking in fright. The boy's blue eyes were on her naked form. If that wasn't enough, he was awkwardly draped in her unmentionables as the top piece hung on one odd spike and over one eyes while the bottom piece covered his nose and mouth in the most important parts. The rest of her clothes had rolled down onto his torso and, fortunately or unfortunately, his shorts area.

Vento's heart beat violently. She grinned as she finally understood.

"I'll kill you."

"GAH!"

BOOM!

"SUCH MISFORTUUUUUUNE!"

This was routine too.

"Phew"

Splash...

The bathroom is quiet, and it's filled with steam. The cold autumn air quickly condenses the hot water of the bath. Vento enjoys the peace, but can't help frowning at how she knows why the steam exists. She hated science. The silence is golden to her, again it is routine. The boy knows well not to make a peep after angering her so. She made sure that was drilled into his head after throwing him out with a few hits for good measure. She dips into the bath, her hair a wet mess as they dangle in scraggly strands. She is a woman of piety, not a holy woman, but one devoted to her doctrines still. And yet she has lost her modesty too many times to count. She tells herself that it's that accursed right arm that undoes divine blessings from on high. In the end, she still blames the boy himself.

On a whim, Vento of the Front cups her breasts. She feels around her narrow waist and the flat stomach and eventually to the whole of her short wiry frame. Her hands reach her face and she can't help but give a bitter smile. Was she beautiful? She never asked that question, she never wondered. In all her years on this green earth, she has never thought to question such a topic. Maybe she was too thin, maybe her face was too gaunt. The piercings already broke away at her face's natural gentleness and removing them would just explose empty holes in her flesh. She doesn't know why she asks. She doesn't know why she cares. But still she wonders, still she cries. She cries for all the things she gave up on. She cries for the things she never cared for but suddenly wondered about. She cries because she had not really thought about the kind of woman she wanted to be, over the kind of revenge she wanted to inflict.

This isn't routine.

Vento can't stay in the bath forever, so she dips into the bath to wash her tears. She soaps up and washes herself clean in both mind and body. After rinsing and drying, she confronts her clothes. There really isn't much to confront when it comes to clothes. Normally one would just wear them and be done with it, and so would Vento. This was different. She remembers something about her clothes, she remembers where they've been from. Particularly one specific article.

"Th-That idiot.", the woman grinds out as she glares at her panties. A certain spot quite clearly wet. It was a sacred spot and it was the worst place to be. She would like to assume that the wet spot is water splashed on it. She wants to but her mind flashes back to her clothes sprawled over a terrified boy, this particularly lacey number practically stuffed in his mouth. This one spot basically being kissed by his lips and clenched between his teeth. The thought sends a shiver down her spine.

Vento doesn't want to wear it, but she has to. There was no other choice, in both literal and figurative sense. Because Vento of the Front, only had three changes of underwear available to her. In the past month, she had only been able to obtain a meager wardrobe from the chicken scratch in Kamijou Touma's wallet. Forget shopping, the boy had to pay for the food of the ultimate freeloader's stomach, the Index Librorum Prohibitorum. It was miraculous he could afford the mid to high fashion marketed clothes Vento personally picked out without having them eat nothing but rice and tea for the past month. As it stood, one pair was in the laundry basket and the other one was hanging out to dry.

Bottomline: It was wear this or go commando.

Mortifying did not begin to describe her situation. Vento earnestly wished that her current circumstances were different.

* * *

Hello, author here. I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm really thankful for the support I'm getting on this. I'm looking forward to the day I update this again, though problems in real life and my odd creative process(yea right .) will probably keep me from this for awhile. Much like the Yomikawa chapter, some content had to be cut from this so it's much shorter than intended. I had actually promised a third scene to someone I could probably call my beta but I hit a snag. why you may ask.

simple.

Pantsu or no pantsu? that is the question.


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